A small world
by witheringtrees
Summary: [au. non-apocalyptic world] A world where everything is normal and everyone is who they were before the zombie apocalypse, a series of one-shots on how some of them might run into one another.


**a/n: please tell me what you all think, if you read it, doesn't matter if its just a smiley face or whatever, I'd just really appreciate some feedback. updates will probably be slow and they won't all be as long as this, some of them may be, but I don't think they all will. I'm not really sure at the moment.**

**All rights and characters go to the creators of the walking dead. I own nothing**

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><p>He couldn't believe it. He'd been caught. Again<p>

Carl remained frozen in disbelief as two of the markets employees hovered intrusively by his side, the girl - she couldn't be no older than seventeen - looked anxious, like he might lash out and strangle her. The man had his fist curled tightly in the collar of his flannel, his white moustache bristling with disgust. He didn't let go as he pulled out his middle aged cell phone.

He looked over at Carl as he brought the phone up to his ear, thin mouth twisting, "You better not try anything son, the cops'll be here soon." His eyes went to the girl, "Marie, go get Cathy, she'll want to know about this."

Marie glanced at Carl, saw his glare, and skittered away.

"I have a young man here who was caught in the act of shop-lifting, sir." The man - his name tag had the name Dally Cress written in bold, important letters - tightened his grip. "This has happened on more than just one occasion and he's been caught before this - it's store policy to give a warning and call the child's parents, the second time is to alert the authorities - okay. A night in the cells? It sounds appropriate. Okay, thank you."

Carl let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, dread pooling in the middle of his belly. Anger made him jerk away from the man who hadn't released his hold, and he straightened his shirt.

"You're heading down the wrong path, son - "

"I'm not your son." Carl snapped. "And don't lecture me."

"You kids these days think you're above everyone else, I don't know who you're parents are, but clearly they aren't teaching you right from wrong. You know you could be doing some hard time for this if you were an adult, right?"

It took everything in him to not strike out, who did this guy think he was? He was a nobody, a nobody who had no right to insult his parents - no matter how much one of them deserved it - and to lecture him like he was the dirtiest scum he'd ever seen. He felt his cheeks flush.

"Don't - "

A woman walked into the room, followed by Marie, she was soft looking with shoulder length brown hair and rectangular glasses, her mouth looked made for smiling though at the moment she was frowning. Her somber eyes took in the scene, Carl glaring at everything he looked at, and Dally, who looked like he'd tasted something sour.

"Is there a problem?" She asked, voice soft but authoritative.

"Yes." Dally said immediately. He grabbed Carl's elbow and dragged him forward, pushing him a bit. "This boy was caught stealing, again. Do you remember him, it was a couple months ago, but - "

"Dally." She cut him off, "Get your hands off the boy, you can see he's not running."

The old man trailed off, his hand quickly falling away. Carl moved away from them all, he saw Cathy shoot Dally a sharp look when he reached forward again, and felt a bitter enjoyment when the old man lowered his head to a girl who could only be in her early twenties.

"We'll have to call the police, I hope you know." Cathy said, walking further into the room, her short stocky legs ate up the floor quickly, and she was standing in front of him in a few seconds. "You're name, it's - Cameron?"

"Carl." He muttered. He cleared his throat and said louder, "Carl Grimes."

"What did you try to take?" She asked. He looked at the ground and didn't answer.

"A pair of headphones." Dally interjected spitefully, pale blue eyes alight. "Marie walked right around the corner and saw him trying to pry the casing off - bastard didn't even see - "

"You know, I'm getting fucking tired - " Carl began, practically spitting.

"Dally! " Cathy said forcefully, "Go."

He looked gobsmacked, "Cathy - "

"Dally." Her shrewd eyes pinned him in place and she pointed to the door. "Leave."

He went, but not without a loud exclamation about how he deserved to be there.

Cathy turned back toward him with a small smirk tugging at the corner of her wide mouth, she looked at Carl with the friendliest look he'd ever seen. "Dally's a bit old-fashioned, has no filter. He's a good guy, lonely. He takes his job very seriously."

He said nothing.

"I'm guessing he's already called the cops." She assumed.

He nodded.

"Stealing isn't the right way to go, kid. You shouldn't - "

"I don't need to listen to this," he began, turning his head away.

"While you're here, yes you do." Cathy's tone of voice didn't change, but unlike Dally, Carl felt like she was someone worth listening to, somehow. He lifted his head and peeked through the dark strands that hung in his eyes. "I know the teenage rebellion stage pretty well, having had one myself and I know that danger is fun and thrilling, but its not worth it in the long run. Its really not. It may be fun in the beginning but when you're sitting behind bars, it's not so great anymore."

She smiled kindly at him, "I can tell that you're an alright kid, better than the other teenagers that we catch, and I give each and every one of them this speech about how its not worth it. So far you're the only one that hasn't cussed me out and told me to go to hell." She touched his shoulder. "Take the advice from someone who knows from experience."

The policeman arrived soon after and Carl braced himself internally when the man stopped in front of him in surprise, "Carl Grimes, is that you?"

"Is my dad at the station?" He asked, ignoring Simon's incredulous gaze.

"Uh - he - he's out on a run." Simon said slowly, looking over at Cathy, "this is the shoplifter?"

"Yes." Cathy said, her arched eyebrows were raised. She looked between the two of them. "You know eachother?"

"His dad's the sheriff," Simon said, he shook his head and grabbed Carl's elbow, still looking a bit shocked, "and he's not gonna be very happy about this."

Despite Simons efforts on making conversation, the ride to the station was silent on Carl's part. Simon, thinking he was being generous (but probably hoping to get a good word in with his father) let him sit in the front seat with him. He ignored the young cop and stared in the opposite direction, which was out of the window. It was night, the moon was high, the stars scattered dimly, it was the usual, nothing special.

His mom would tell him that it was beautiful and he'd roll his eyes and make some smart-ass comment and hurt her feelings in the process, he felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of his stomach at the thought. Now that she wasn't here, he felt that he could've done more for her than been a little prick all the time.

It took a good ten minutes until they were finally walking into the place his dad spent more time in than home, the place was also warmer, which was odd considering that it was a jail. Carl had never been there before, or maybe he had, but he couldn't remember. His mom hadn't liked it when Rick brought his job into their home, not if it could influence Carl in any bad way.

He bit his lip and looked around, since it was a small town there were only a couple of cells, one of them was empty while the other had a man who looked worn and tired. Simon led him over to the one that was occupied and pulled out a ring of keys. He opened the door and smiled apologetically, inclining his head for him to go in.

He grimaced and did so, throwing a glance to the man sitting on the bench. He nodded awkwardly when the man stared at him and sat down on the bench, but as far away as he could get from the other guy. The man looked like what Carl had always imagined a prisoner would look like, bruises ran along his jaw and dried blood gathered around his nose. Hardened and eyes as dull as an uncleaned swimming pool.

Simon stood on the opposite side, watching. "Don't try anything, Daryl, that's the sheriff's son right there."

Daryl looked like he gave zero fucks on who anyone was.

Simon pressed his thin lips together and nodded to himself, like he'd just succeeded in taming a wild horse. "Good. Now I have to go fill out some papers so I'll just be right round the corner. Holler if you need anything Carl."

He stared at him for another moment but since he'd said everything he had to say, he had no choice but to turn around and disappear. The place was oddly empty, it probably wasn't a very busy night and his dad had sent the others home. Shane was undoubtedly with him, they were usually together, more so after the death of his mother.

He was feeling awkwarder by the minute and so conversation just ended up tumbling out of him. "What are you in for?"

He immediately regretted it when the other sent him a 'who the fuck do you think you're talking to' look. "I'm sorry." He said uncertainly. "I..."

He stopped. He felt his face begin to heat up and clenched his jaw. It was hard to act tough when you had the tendency to blush like a little girl and stumble in the middle of sentences. He felt his chest seize up in frustration and tightened his fists. God, this was embarrassing.

He brushed his hair out of his eyes and chewed on the inside of his cheek, was he just supposed to sit here all night? He wondered if his dad would allow it and immediately dismissed the thought, yes he would, just to teach Carl a lesson and then he'd give some stupid lecture that he wouldn't even bother listening to. For a moment he thought of his mom and how he'd always ignored her and felt a moment's guilt, when she'd died during Judith's birth he'd promised himself that he'd be better, that he'd try. For her.

He was lousy with promises.

"You in 'ere all night, kid?" a voice asked.

It was the man next to him, obviously, but Carl couldn't help but look around him to make sure it wasn't someone else. It was foolish on his part, but he didn't care. The mans voice was gruff, he sounded like he came from deep in the country. The poorer parts.

He nodded mutely.

"What'd you do?" The man - Daryl - asked.

"What is this? 21 questions?" Carl muttered, though there wasn't much heat in it. There wasn't really much point in being a jackass right now.

"You started it, didn' you?"

Carl looked over at the grown man who was all around intimidating. His mom would definitely steer clear of someone like him, dragging Carl along with her. He looked like the type to rob gas stations and strangle puppies. Despite that, he felt his lip curl, "you never answered mine though."

Daryl lifted a shoulder lazily, "Nothin' really." He said. "I just beat up this guy."

Carl scoffed, "That sure sounds like nothing."

"Would you let a man hit on his wife if you knew 'bout it?" Daryl asked casually.

Carl wasn't really much of a fighter when it came to punches and that kind of stuff, he lacked the muscle and the bigness that was required for it. At fifteen he was still short and slender. But he didn't think he'd let a guy beat his wife up, not if he knew about it.

"How long are you in for?" Carl asked.

"Jus' the night." Daryl smirked, self satisfied. "I didn' hurt him too bad before the cops showed up. The girl, Carol, told them that I did it out of self defense."

"Do you like her?" Carl asked curiously.

"Who? Carol?" Daryl's eyes were on the ceiling. "She's married."

"So?"

"She'd never leave her husband." Daryl shrugged a little, like he didn't care, but his mouth was tilted down in disappointment. "She's too scared of him."

"You never know." Carl said. "You got any kids?"

"No. Thankfully." Then he smiled, just a little. It kind of transformed his face, made it haggardly handsome. "But Carol's got a daughter, you might be her age. She's the sweetest thing, gorgeous too. Looks just like her mom."

It was silent again for a moment and his thoughts wandered back to his mom. He missed her more than he'd expected himself to. They hadn't really gotten along for a long time, her trying to keep him close and away from danger and him doing it just to make her angry and to prove that he was older and that he could handle himself. He'd really hated her but now he just missed her.

He'd been in the room when she'd had Judith, he'd been there as she bled out on the table. The doctors and nurses had moved in a flurry of movement, either they'd forgotten he was there or they just hadn't cared. It didn't matter. His dad had been at work, a busy night from what Shane had said, and when he'd found out, Rick had lost it. He went crazy for a little while, it was totally justified, but Carl had hated his dad too. He still kind of did.

It'd happneed two months ago and the wounds hadn't even started to heal yet.

"So, are you ever goin' to answer my question?" Daryl asked.

He blinked dazedly, realizing his vision had gone blurry. He felt his breathing hitch, "What?"

"Why're you in 'ere?"

Embarrassment heated his cheeks.

"You piss all over someone's rose bushes? My brother did that once."

He raised his eyebrows, "What?"

"I'll tell you all 'bout it if you tell me why yer in 'ere."

It wasn't that big of a deal, really. "I was trying to steal some headphones, I got caught."

"And yer dad's the sheriff?"

"Yeah. He's gonna be pissed when he finds out and since my mom's not here anymore, he's gonna be real crazy about it. Even though she was stricter with everything, it was better getting yelled at by her than him." He licked the front of his teeth and grimaced.

"Yer mom left you guys?"

"She died." He said shortly. "As she had my baby sister. It was a couple months ago."

"Damn." Daryl looked at him and gave what Carl thought was a sympathetic look. "My mom died too, when I was younger. Had a lit cigarette in her hand as she fell asleep. The house burnt down with her in it."

"I'm sorry." Carl said, meaning it.

"Don't apologize. You didn' kill her, now did ya?" He pulled something out of his pocket, with a closer look Carl saw that it was a pack of maverick menthol 100's. He pulled one out.

"Are you allowed to smoke in here?" Carl asked, bemused and baffled.

"Probably not." Daryl muttered, lighting it up. "But who's here to see it?"

"Well, Simons in the other room... And aren't you worried I'll tell my dad?"

"That a threat?" Daryl asked, a spiraling cloud of smoke floating through the air with the words.

"...no." Carl said smartly. He smiled a little, despite the circumstances.

"Thought so." Daryl said, and he was smiling a little too. He held the pack out to Carl, flicking the top back with his thumb. "You wanna try?"

Carl leaned back, "Uh, no thanks."

"You sure? When else are ye gonna have the chance to smoke a cigarette in a cell with a older guy? It's a good story ta tell yer friends isn' it?"

Carl sighed, it would be cool, but he couldn't risk it. He was already going to be in enough trouble. "Nah, with my chances my dad would walk in and then I'd be dead."

Daryl shrugged and slipped the pack back in his pocket. "It's a bad habit anyway."

For a few minutes there was no talking, Carl stared at the clock as Daryl puffed at his cancer stick and wondered when his dad would be back, hopefully later, he wasn't in the mood for an argument if his dad didn't choose to just give him the silent treatment until they got home. He felt relaxed, weirdly, and kind of put out that this was the only time he and Daryl would ever talk. They weren't really friends, but he was fun to talk to. Different from everything Carl was used to.

"So are you gonna tell me about that story or what?" He said.

Daryl looked over and Carl was surprised to see the man looking amused. "Well, it was when we were 'bout yer age maybe and Merle's girl had been seeing another guy, he was _pissed_.."


End file.
